


Months

by consultinghomosexual



Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Omegaverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultinghomosexual/pseuds/consultinghomosexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hello, this work has already been published on my fanfiction.net account under the same name but now I'm uploading it here too. It's an mpreg/omegaverse story where John and Sherlock try to figure out how to cope with having their first child.</p>
<p>I can't with summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 3 months

-3 months-  
John ripped the price tag off of the new sweater and slowly put it on. He turned to look himself in the mirror and sighed. The sweater was a size bigger than what he normally wore and didn’t quite fit, but looking good wasn’t really the point.  
The point was to hide things, from the man whom nothing could be hidden.  
He slipped his hand under his shirt, touching on the warm skin of his stomach that was stretching over a just barely visible bump.  
He hadn’t realized the heat had not been over yet.  
Carelessness has a crude punishment…  
He glanced at the living room, where Sherlock sat in his chair, reading the day’s paper.  
He had to tell him, there was no in trying to hide it, and even if he could successfully hide his growing belly, he wouldn’t be able to hide the child once it was born.

‘I have never cared much for children.’  
John shivered a bit as he remembered Sherlock’s words when they had discussed the possibility of children about a year ago.  
Slowly, he walked towards the detective.  
“Sherlock…”  
“Hmm?” he dark-haired man responded, turning another page.  
“…I have to tell you something…I…”  
“That you’re pregnant, correct?”  
John felt as if a lightning had stricken through his body. He couldn’t but stare wide eyed at his partner, who had now turned his own gaze to him.  
It took a while before John managed to say anything.  
“You knew…?”  
“Well, that was one of my theories. The “stomach bug influenced” nausea, refusal to drink beer at the pub, buying of several new items of clothing, all of them size bigger than you usually wear, tiredness… You are brilliant at many things, but lying isn’t really one of them.”  
John felt like he had been hit over the head with a brick. He slumped down to the couch opposite Sherlock.  
“What confirmed my suspicions was the scent.”  
“Of course…” John said, burying his head in his hand. “I forgot…”  
Sherlock smiled, but it was a hollow smile.  
Each Omega and Alpha had a specific scent, and when an Omega got pregnant their scent changed slightly. It was not noticeable to anyone else but the Alpha they had mated with.

After an uncomfortable silence, John finally lifted his head and stared into Sherlock’s eyes.  
“So…what now…?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, do you want to have it…him…her…?”  
Sherlock took a moment before answering, which was odd for a man who could respond faster than a bullet train.  
“It’s your choice, John,” he finally said indifferently, then quickly turning back to the newspaper.

Suddenly John felt anger starting to boil in the pit of his stomach.  
He rose up, clenching his fists.  
“MY CHOICE?! Is that all you are going to say?!”  
All he got as a response was the startled and scared on Sherlock’s face.  
“You are just going to leave me hanging like that?! Do you even care at all?!”  
“No I…” Sherlock muttered. “I didn’t mean I wouldn’t take responsibility…”  
“Responsibility…” John spat out the word like it was poison. “Is that all that this is to you, a responsibility?”  
He turned around, not wanting the detective to see the tears that had started streaming down his face.  
“Fuck you…” he hissed and stormed back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

He lied on his side in the dimly lit room, sobbing to his pillow.  
Any other reaction he could’ve dealt with, anger, joy, disbelief…  
But this cold and emotionless way Sherlock just dismissed the whole thing was too much.  
He ran his hand over the bulge on his stomach.  
“It’s okay, I would never get rid of you,” he whispered. ”Even if I become a single- parent, I will keep you.”

Then, he heard the door creak open quietly behind his back. Silent, cat- like steps crossed the room, and then he felt a long lean arm wrap itself around him.  
“I’m sorry,” Sherlock breathed to the back of his neck.  
“Not helping much.”  
“I know… Perhaps I phrased my sentence wrong… I meant that whatever you choose to do, I will be there for you.”  
John turned around in Sherlock’s arms so their faces were just inches away. Sherlock almost gasped when he saw John’s red eyes.  
“It’s not supposed to be like that! I don’t want to force you to have a child you don’t want to.”  
Slowly, he took one of Sherlock’s long lean hands, and placed in on his waist.  
“Do you, or do you not want to have a child?”  
Sherlock felt the fabric of John’s shirt under his palm. It was hard for him to believe life was growing in there.  
“You know I’m not good with feelings…” he muttered.  
“Answer me,” John pressed on.  
“You can’t make me do a decision like this…”  
“Well I am, so deal with it!”  
“Yes…”  
John blinked.  
“What?”  
“Yes I want to have this child with you… I have calculated that…”  
“Oh god…” John sighed, pulling away from Sherlock and sitting on the side of the bed.  
“…I really don’t give a shit about your calculations, why can’t you just tell me how you feel about it?”  
Sherlock sat beside him. “I told when we started dating that I don’t really do that sort of thing…”  
“But you love me right, that’s something you feel?”  
“Yes, but may I point out that it took me long time to realize. I always though love was not a mystery; that it’s just a chemical reaction in the brain that makes your heart beat faster and your pupils dilate but…”  
John turned to look at him.  
“But…?”  
“There seems to be more to it… but my theory isn’t quite finished…”  
John stood up and walked to the window.  
Then he chuckled and turned to look at his lover still sitting on the bedside, as if waiting for something to happen.  
“Well, let’s go get some tea shall we?” he smiled.  
Sherlock looked utterly confused. “…So you forgive me?”  
“Oh no, I still hate you, but I think this response is as good as I’m going to get from you, at the moment anyway,” he laughed.


	2. 4 months

“God dammit…”  
Sherlock squint his eyes, as the light from the window shone straight to his face. He turned around and pulled the blanket over himself.  
Automatically, he reached his hand to search for his mate, only to feel the empty pillow next to him.  
He sat up and yawned.

Quietly he crept into the living room, and saw John walking around in the kitchen, humming to himself.  
The sight took his breath away, as he stood in the shadowy corner.  
John was wearing a T-shirt, that was getting quite tight in the middle, and everytime he lifted his hands the shirt rose up, revealing the protruding stomach.  
He was eating a sandwich, sometimes absent- mindedly rubbing his belly with one hand.  
Such a mundane sight for everyone else, but for Sherlock it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Suddenly, John stopped at his tracks, his eyes widening with surprise.  
He stood still, lifting up his shirt and staring down at his belly, running a hand across it.  
“Oh god…” escaped from his lips, at which point Sherlock couldn’t hide anymore.  
“Are you alright?” he said walking over, looking concerned.  
John jolted slightly and turned to look at him. “For God’s sake you scared me, how long have you been standing there?” he exclaimed.  
“Are you okay?” Sherlock demanded.  
“I think I just felt the little one move…” John smiled.  
“Oh…” Sherlock said, not really able to think of anything else. “Right…umm…”  
He stared at John’s exposed middle intensely for a moment, then reaching out a slightly shaking hand.  
“Can I?” he asked quietly.  
John gave him a look similar to those Sherlock gave to people he thought were extremely stupid. That included practically everyone.  
The doctor shrugged his shoulders. “Well, it’s your kid.”  
On the inside he was a bit shocked by the request. For the past month, Sherlock had stayed as far as he possibly could from his growing midsection and avoided talking about anything baby related.

Sherlock only touched his skin gently with his fingertips.  
“I can’t feel anything.”  
John sighed. “Well of course, you’re not really even touching me.”  
He took Sherlock’s hand and guided to where he could feel the tiny movements.  
Sherlock eyes became wide, as the skin under his palm vibrated slightly.  
John stared at Sherlock, waiting what kind of reaction he’d get this time.  
The tall man said nothing, simply withdrew his hand. John noticed that it was trembling even more.  
“Are YOU alright?” he asked, pulling his shirt back down.  
“I think I need a cigarette…”   
“Right…” John said, not really knowing what to do. Clearly he wasn’t alright; he hadn’t smoked for months now. “…just no more smoking inside, I don’t want to fill the baby’s lungs with that rubbish.”  
The detective turned around and John watched as he changed into his day clothes and grabbed his trenchcoat before disappearing into stairs, all the while wearing the same empty expression.

Outside the door, he hastily lit the cigarette, almost dropping the lighter.  
Even Sherlock himself didn’t quite know what had scared him so much. Maybe it was the fact that the child wasn’t anymore just a concept, it was something that could move, something that could be felt.  
He puffed smoke up in the air, feeling the surge of nicotine calm him down. He crouched down and leaned his back against the wall, watching the people go about their business.  
“Hey now,” he heard a soft voice say and saw John standing next to him at the stairs.  
The blonde man sat down on the stairs, facing him.   
“The smoke..?” Sherlock asked, gazing at the ground.  
“It’s alright since we are outside… the wind will blow it away. Besides, this city’s air is full of pollution anyway, it’ll make no difference.”  
“Right…”   
“You know, sometimes you should try talking about the problem, not running away from it.”  
“Hmmh… ”  
“What is it? Are you scared you’ll be a bad parent?”   
“John, I know I will be.”

John couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “…and how did you calculate that?”  
Sherlock glared at him.   
“It doesn’t need calculation, just a look at the facts; I’m not very affectionate, and find things like ‘caring’ a very hard to do, I get frustrated easily, my occupation is a rather dangerous one… Can you think of any way in which I could contribute to a stable home life for a child?”  
Gently, John moved closer to him and kissed his lips.  
“If you are able to love me, then you will be able to love our child. I believe in you,” he said as their lips parted.  
Sherlock snorted. “Very flattering, but you are going by sentiment alone, not by logic.”  
“Well, a little ‘sentiment’ wouldn’t hurt you either,” John said running his hand along Sherlock’s cheek.  
He stood up and offered his hand to Sherlock.  
“Let’s go eat some breakfast.”  
“Didn’t I just see you eating a sandwich?”   
John laughed. “That was just a snack before it.”


	3. 5 months

John woke up to racket coming from to the living room.  
He had been taking an afternoon nap, and the bedroom door was closed.  
Slowly he got up, listening to the noises that sounded increasingly like fighting.  
As quietly as he could, he opened a drawer and took his beloved Browning from it.  
Then he opened the door just an inch to see what was going on.

Sherlock was fighting with a mysterious man, who had a balaclava over his face, so only is eyes could be seen.  
An assassin sent by the suspect of Sherlock’s current case?  
Maybe it was someone from a previous case, seeking revenge?

John didn’t stand there thinking for long, he took his phone and sent a single text message.  
Then he slammed the door open, startling both men who turned to look at him.  
Sherlock felt like the blood had frozen in is veins, seeing is lover standing there, gun aimed at the intruder and free hand shielding his stomach.  
He himself was slammed against the wall; a powerful hand squeezing is neck.  
The intruder apparently didn’t have the same kind of military experience as John, and was only halfway pulling his own gun from his jacket pocket when  
John had already fired a shot.  
The man screamed as the bullet pierced his shoulder, and he fell to the floor, releasing Sherlock from his grip.  
“John!” Sherlock shouted. He didn’t even know why, he just wanted to reach out to his mate.  
He managed to take few steps forward towards the pregnant man, when the intruder managed to lift his hand still holding the gun up from the floor.  
“You son of a bitch!” he shouted in a pain- ridden voice and fired.  
Sherlock felt the time slow down.  
The bullet made it’s deadly way towards John, who fell behind the couch.  
Sherlock screamed until all the air left his lungs, utterly losing the control of his emotions.  
At that exact moment, a squad of policemen from the Scotland Yard bursted through their door, Lestrade at the lead. 

Sherlock didn’t care though; he sprinted through the living room toward the couch behind of which John was.  
He saw his lover laying there, in a fetal position, both arms clutching his swollen belly.  
“Oh God…Please…No…” as he fell to his knees next to him, burying his head to his hands.  
“Sherlock…?” he heard a croaked voice say, and lifted is gaze.  
John was staring at him, eyes wide open, but is expression was somehow empty.  
“Is he gone…?”  
Sherlock felt a wave of relief flush over him. “Yes, are you hurt…?”  
“I… don’t think so…” John said, sitting up with Sherlock’s help.  
“…but that was a bit too close for comfort…” he said, staring into emptiness, one hand still not leaving his belly.  
Sherlock wanted to hug him, to comfort him, but somehow couldn’t. He felt paralyzed by the sad blank look in John’s eyes.

“Are you alright?” asked a concerned voice from above.  
Sherlock looked up and saw Lestrade standing next to them.  
“Yes…more or less…” John said quietly. “But I… think I need to lie down…”  
“Of course…” Sherlock said, helping his mate up. He then tried to put his arm around John’s waist, to help him to bedroom, but the omega shook him off.  
“I’ll manage…” he said.  
Sherlock was left speechless and simply stared at John’s back as he disappeared into the bedroom.  
Then he turned to Lestrade.  
“Greg, I want to thank…”  
His sentence was cut off when the policeman’s fist connected with his face, sending his flying to his arse on the floor.  
“What the fuck is going on here!?” Greg shouted, staring at him angrily. “You let your pregnant boyfriend on the line of the fire?!”  
Sherlock couldn’t but stare back, completely dumbstruck.  
“The only thing that stops me from snapping your fucking neck is the fact that John wouldn’t want me to do it. I don’t know what he sees in you.”  
“I-I didn’t…” Sherlock stammered.  
“Whatever,” Lestrade grunted, turning around. “Just don’t let this happen again, next time we might not make it in time…”

After all the officers and the intruder had left, Sherlock knocked on the bedroom door.  
No answer.  
He opened the door anyway.  
The lights were turned off, but he could make out John’s figure lying under sheets.  
He walked up to the bed, sliding to his side and watched to other man’s back.  
Gently, he touched John’s shoulder.  
“I’m sorry…” he muttered, not really knowing what else to say.  
John turned around, and Sherlock almost gasped as he saw the red eyes and lines of tears on his cheeks.  
“What for…?” John simply asked.  
“For everything…” Sherlock said, his voice trailing off and breaking down.  
John reached out his hand, and touched the red spot on Sherlock’s cheek where Greg had punched him.  
“Did he hit you hard?”  
Sherlock grabbed John’s hand and held it in his own.  
“I thought that he was surprisingly gentle, I’d deserve much worse.”  
Suddenly John pulled him down, wrapping his arms around the detective’s slim frame.  
“It wasn’t your fault that the man broke in here,” he whispered.  
Sherlock was quiet for a moment.  
“It is my fault though that I have a rather dangerous job and I have made a lot of enemies…”  
He felt John’s grip of him tighten.  
“Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say…”  
“That I think you really ought to leave me, for the sake of your own health and our child’s…?”  
“Yes…” John said, burying his head into Sherlock’s chest.  
Sherlock wrapped his own arms around John and stayed quiet.


	4. 6 months

A sudden pain in his stomach made John wake up from his nap.  
He groaned and shifted his position on the bed. He had been having cramps all day, and it was really starting to freak him out.   
He rubbed his bump and noted how it felt strangely hard in the middle.  
He couldn’t take it anymore.  
“Sherlock?” he said, while slowly getting up, one hand still on his stomach.  
John walked in to the living room, but no one was there.  
“Sherlock! Are you here?” he shouted, now feeling anxious. He checked the kitchen and upstairs, but couldn’t find the man.  
“Oh god…” John muttered, when another cramp hit him. He could feel panic rising inside him, and started franticly searching for his phone.

Just as he found it, he steps coming up the stairs.  
A few seconds later, Sherlock appeared at the doorway, holding two shopping bags.  
For a moment, John forgot about the pains he was having.  
“You went shopping?!” he exclaimed in disbelief.  
Sherlock looked slightly startled by the sudden noise. “Yes umm…” he then muttered, placing the bags on kitchen table.  
“… I noticed we didn’t have any bread or milk or anything really so… and I don’t want you to carry heavy bags…”  
“Oh…” John said, gazing down at his stomach, still amazed that Sherlock actually went to the shops without him having to drag him by the ears.

Then another cramp hit John and he gasped.  
Sherlock turned around to look at him. “John?” he asked worry in his voice.  
“I think I need you to take me to the hospital…”  
Sherlock’s expression became concerned. “Is something wrong?”  
John rubbed his bump, looking equally worried.  
“I don’t know.”   
Actually, a million things were running through his head. He was a doctor after all, although specialized in war wounds rather than pregnancy.  
“I’ll go hail us a cab,” Sherlock said, not wasting time by asking further questions.

At the hospital, they found at that John was having contractions, which was bad since he was only 6 months along.  
Sherlock sat beside John’s bed and watched as the doctor checked on him.  
“It’s not too good is it...?” John said miserably, looking at the monitor. His voice was hoarse and he felt sweaty and exhausted.  
“No, but we haven’t tried everything yet,” the doctor said, adjusting the drip that went into John’s wrist.  
John just nodded, and glanced at his lover.  
The dark- haired man was staring right back at him, nodding aswell. They didn’t need to exchange words to understand how scared they both were.  
Sherlock moved in closer, grabbing John’s hand, something he didn’t do very often, and they just held each other quietly.

John sighed, as the doctor pulled the drip out. It had taken all night and most of morning for the doctor’s to get the contractions to stop.  
He looked at Sherlock, who was sleeping on his chair, head on the bed next to John.  
He stroked the black- curls gently. “Wake up,” he whispered. He had no energy to speak any louder.  
The other man shot upright immediately, looking bewildered.  
“Everything’s alright…” John said soothingly. “…for now…” He turned to the doctor.  
“Yes, but we need keep you here in bedrest for some time, possibly until the end of the pregnancy.”  
Sherlock nodded, and watched the man leave, leaving them alone in the room.  
Then he put his hand next to John’s, which were resting on his blanket covered belly.  
“He’s still there, don’t worry, I can feel it,” John said giving him a faint smile.  
They had found out some time ago that the baby was going to be a boy.  
“Good…” Sherlock muttered, taking his hand off, but John grabbed it and placed it back.  
“Keep it there, it feels nice…” he said. “It feels safe…” his voice trailed off and he yawned.  
“I’ll probably fall asleep in a minute,” he said turning to Sherlock, who nodded.  
“You should go home, get some rest yourself.”  
“I’m fine, thanks,” Sherlock responded.  
John sighed, as he saw the stubborn expression on Sherlock’s face. There was no arguing with him.  
“Well, suit yourself,” he said, closing his eyes. “Good night.”  
“Good night…” Sherlock whispered, then added an even more quietly; “I love you.”  
But John was already asleep, and didn’t hear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it happens I'm not as happy with these later chapters as I was with the first ones, but hope you enjoy them. I luv writing jealous!John though.

John would’ve liked for the ground to swallow him right there and then. He could feel his face blush red with embarrassment as people stared at him.  
It had been a month since he had been admitted to the hospital, and the doctors had thought it was better if he stayed there. John had protested, and said he felt alright, but he also knew that pregnant male- omegas were more likely to have complication than females, so in the end he had given in.  
After a month though, he had been so bored out of his mind he had demanded to be let to go outside at least for a day.  
Neither the doctors or Sherlock were too keen on the idea, but in the end they had decided that he could go… on one condition; he was not allowed to walk.

“This is ridiculous,” John muttered, sitting on a wheelchair that Sherlock was pushing through the mall. John had suddenly realized they had almost nothing prepared for the baby, so they had been shopping all day.  
“Huh..?” The detective asked from behind him.  
“I said this is ridiculous! I have two perfectly good feet I could walk with! At this rate, I’ll lose all the muscle in my feet…”  
“Yes, but you are not allowed to strain yourself.”  
John muttered some curse words under his breath, and shot an angry look at a woman who was staring at him.  
“I want tea…” he whined.

Soon, he was waiting at one of the tables outside Starbucks for Sherlock to get their drinks.  
He was staring inside the café, looking at the other man standing in the queue, pouting after Sherlock had told him he could not come inside with him.  
John's eyes wandered to the barista standing at the cash machine, taking everyone’s orders.

He was a handsome young man, no more than 20 years- old with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes, most likely an omega.  
When Sherlock was making his order, John could swear the man’s behaviour changed. He smiled more broadly, and ran his hand through his hair.  
‘Is he flirting?’ John thought, shocked.  
Then he saw the boy lean slightly closer when giving Sherlock his change, and winking.  
'That’s it!' John thought, getting up to his feet, one hand holding his belly, earning several more stares in the progress.  
He waddled over just as Sherlock was getting the drinks.  
“John…”  
“I thought you might need help carrying the things,” John said sternly, wrapping his arm around Sherlock and glaring at the barista, who now looked back at him slightly shocked.  
“I’m fine John, and besides I don’t really want you carrying…”  
“…heavy things, yeah, got it, whatever…” he grabbed the plate with a piece of chocolate cake and turned around, walking back to the table, leaving a dumbfounded Sherlock holding their drinks.  
He sat back down, already feeling exhausted despite having only walked a few meters.  
Sherlock sat opposite him, placing the drinks tray down, staring at John the whole time without saying anything.

John knew perfectly well though what he wanted to ask. He crossed his arms on the top of his bump.  
“He was flirting with you and I didn’t like,” he said bluntly.  
“He was?” Sherlock said, with a tone of surprise in his voice, and turned to look back at the boy.  
John snorted and rolled his eyes.  
On the inside his brain was screaming; 'What are you doing? This is so childish…' 

“Of course he was who wouldn’t?” he said bitterly, staring at his tea “A tall, handsome, dark alpha like you walks in and every omega is instantly swoon…”   
Sherlock was silent for a moment.  
“John… Are you seriously suggesting than I’m going to run away with a barista who, by the looks of it, has barely graduated high school?” he then asked in a confused voice.  
He knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.  
“So you were looking at him?!” John snapped, even surprising himself. He wasn’t normally like this.   
“I merely noted his age John.”  
The omega didn’t even look at him.  
Sherlock moved in closer.  
“I don’t know what is going on right now…” he said, searching for eye contact with his mate. “…but I want you to know that you are the only one I’ve ever been “looking at”.”  
“That’s probably the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”  
“But it’s true,” Sherlock said, leaning in closer to John’s face.  
“What are you doing?” John said, blushing slightly, staring into the grey eyes.  
“Showing everyone in here that you are the only one who has claimed me,” he said, pressing his lips against John’s.

“I’m sorry, I think these bloody hormones and all that time spent inside have made me go mad,” John said as they finally parted.   
“It’s only natural John, you have nothing to apologize for,” Sherlock smiled.  
“Yeah but still…” John said staring down at his large stomach.   
“I honestly don’t even care if you’d check out some random omega; it’s only natural to do that when your own mate is a bloody beached whale…”  
Suddenly a hand was gently pressed in front of his mouth.   
“Don’t,” Sherlock said in a serious tone, then moving his hand down to John’s non-existent waistline. “I don’t want to hear that kind of talk, from the only person who I’ve ever found beautiful in this world.”

John almost choked up when he heard that.  
“And hopefully soon there will be another person just like you,” Sherlock said, smiling at John’s bump.  
“Whoa,” John said, “That almost sounded like, you’re actually coming round to this idea of us becoming a family.”  
“Umm…” Sherlock muttered. “I guess so…Ma-maybe it could work…”  
When he lifted his gaze he was met with John's wide grin.


	6. 7 1/2 months

John groaned as he felt the baby kick. They weren’t nice little kicks anymore, but vicious assaults.  
“Is the little one on the move again?” he heard Sherlock say. He was sitting at his usual spot, reading magazine by John’s bed.  
“Yep…” John answered, sitting upright on the bed, rubbing his stomach, trying to make the baby calm down. “…and I need to pee again.”

“We should probably start more seriously thinking about a name, we can’t just call him “a baby”,” John said when he came back from the toilet, carefully sitting on the side of the bed.  
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” the alpha answered, closing the magazine. He looked at John who seemed to him a bit nervous.  
“Do you have a suggestion you fear I’m will not like, or why are you fidgeting your hands?”  
John stared at his palms. He hadn’t even noticed.  
“Well, uh yeah, but if you don’t like it, it’s fine.”  
“If it was, then why would you be nervous?” He paused for a moment. “It’s Hamish, right?”  
“How did you…?” 

Sherlock sighed theatrically. “It’s your second name, your father’s second name and your grandfather’s first name… and you’d like to continue the tradition, I presume?”  
John nodded. “Yeah, I’d like it to be the first name, but it can be a second name also, if you don’t like it.”  
“I think it’s a lovely first name for a boy,” Sherlock smiled.  
John smiled back at him. “Great, you can pick the second name if you want, or do you have some name that runs in your family?”  
“No,” was the icy reply. John felt the hairs in is back stand up slightly. Sherlock never talked about is parents. Only thing that John had squeezed out of him was that his parents’ names were Sigur and Violet, and judging by the way Mycroft and Sherlock talked about them seemed to indicate they were both deceased.  
“…and I don’t have any suggestions at moment, but I’ll think about it.”

He opened the magazine again and continued reading. John noticed that it was the same page as before. When he thought about it more, he didn’t remember hearing Sherlock turn the page for the past 10 minutes, and he was probably the fastest reader in the world.  
Also, John noted, his hands seemed to be trembling just a little bit.  
“Sherlock?”  
The dark- haired man lifted his gaze from the paper.  
“You seem nervous aswell.”  
“What on earth makes you think that?” he said, turning suspiciously quickly back to the page.  
John placed is hands on his hips.  
“What is it?” he demanded.  
“You’re not making any sense.”  
“You’ve been reading the same page for 10 minutes and now you’re avoiding the subject, there definitely is something.”  
Sherlock took a deep breath, placing the magazine back to the nightstand.  
Then he picked something out of his jacket pocket. It was so small that John couldn’t see exactly what it was.  
Without another word Sherlock opened what John now realized was a small box, and presented it contents to him.  
“Shit…” John couldn’t help but say as he stared at the engagement ring.  
“Yeah, uh…I thought maybe you’d do me the honor?”  
John felt completely speechless.

“I always thought that if this was ever to happen to me, it’d be in a bit more romantic setting,” he finally managed to say.  
Sherlock was silent for a moment. “It’s fine if you don’t….”  
“Are you seriously saying you’d be fine if I said no?” John interrupted.  
Sherlock didn’t answer, because no, he wouldn’t be.

Suddenly a kiss was pressed on his cheek.  
“Of course I’ll say yes, I thought you knew it even without me saying it aloud,” John whispered, taking the ring from the box and placing it on his finger.  
Sherlock didn’t know what to do; he just pulled John on to his lap and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his head on the other man’s chest.  
John giggled, running his hand through Sherlock’s black curls.  
“Thank you,” Sherlock said quietly, lifting his head to meet John’s eyes.  
The omega laughed. “My pleasure,” he responded, leaning in for a kiss.

They continued making out, and John could feel Sherlock’s hands moving on his body.  
“Sherlock,” John gasped quietly, as the other man moved his lips to kiss John’s neck.  
The taller man picked him up as if he weighed nothing and placed him on his back on the bed.  
Then he jumped on the bed himself, hovering over John's body and straddling the omegas hips between his legs. Careful not to press his belly he leaned over his mate to continue kissing.

After a while, Sherlock suddenly pulled himself away.  
“We shouldn’t… I mean, you’re in bedrest, and this isn’t exactly ‘resting’” he mumbled. “I’m sorry; my alpha instincts took over me.”  
“Nonono, it’s fine...” John said, grabbing Sherlock’s shirt collar, and pulling him closer. “I feel okay, honestly. The doctors in this damn place are being overly cautious.”  
“Well, they are doctors, so they probably have a good reason…”  
“Well so am I!” John exclaimed, cutting him off.  
“And I’m saying it would be much better for my health if you bloody kissed me now and…”  
Suddenly they heard a loud shocked gasp coming from the door. Both men turned around to see a very surprised looking nurse standing there.  
“I was just checking his vitals!” Sherlock shouted, jumping off the bed. “They seem to be fine, but please do continue with whatever tests you were planning on doing,” he continued, adjusting his clothes.  
John tried to smile apologetically, pulling his own shirt down to cover his bump while the nurse told off Sherlock.

Suddenly out of the blue, a pain shot through his stomach and he let out surprised cry.  
Sherlock was immediately by his side. “John!”  
The omega didn’t answer, because he was looking at the small wet patch that had appeared to the crotch of his trousers. “No…” he whispered, before another spasm assaulted him and he curled up to his side, clutching his middle.  
“John, please, what’s happening?”  
“I-I think my water just broke…”


	7. Birth

“You have to stop this, it’s way too early! He’s not due in another 6 weeks!” Sherlock shouted at the doctor.  
“Please calm Mr. Holmes, since his water has already broken we can’t stop the labour so this is the safest…”  
Feeling the anger and fear rise inside him, he grabbed the man by his white jacket. “There must be another way!”  
“Sherlock!” he heard a shout from the bed.  
He immediately released his grip from the frightened doctor and turned to look at John.

“Calm down, I don’t want you to get thrown out of here,” John said sternly as Sherlock knelt down besides the bed. “I kind of need you here right now,” he said, reaching out his hand.  
Then another contraction hit him and he cried out in pain.  
Sherlock took John’s hand; his brain working in it’s full capacity trying find a way, any way, to make the pain go disappear.  
“I’m sorry, John, it was my fault,” he said when John’s breathing steadied again. “If I had just let you rest properly…”

“SHUT UP!” John suddenly yelled, squeezing Sherlock’s hand so hard it felt sore for days. “Normally I’d be more considerate with you and say ‘no love, it’s not you fault’, but at the moment can you just bloody shut your mouth!”  
Sherlock just nodded, startled by the sudden outburst and let John squeeze his hand even more.

The hours passed, Sherlock holding hands with John, who was sweating on the bed, face red with exhaustion. At least the pain killers had dulled the pain a little.  
“Oh God, why did I even let you stick your dick in me in the first place…” John groaned.  
“I don’t remember you complaining at the time,” Sherlock couldn’t help but remark, only to feel something small hit him hard in the middle of his forehead.  
He looked at the ground where the thing had dropped and realized it was John’s engagement ring.

“One more smug remark Holmes and…!” John started, but was cut off by another contraction and could only let out a scream.  
“Well, looks like you’re all ready, you can push whenever you feel like it,” a nurse smiled from the end of the bed.  
Sherlock picked the ring up from the floor while mumbling, “It can’t just be turned on and off like a tap…”  
“What?!”  
“Nothing,” Sherlock said, taking a better hold of John’s hand. “You’re doing great.”

John pushed, despite feeling like he had no energy left. After a time that felt like 10 years to him, they finally heard the small cry of an infant.  
He slumped back to the bed, watching as the nurses checked on the child.  
“He’s underweight, as expected, and we need to take him down to the prenatal unit, but otherwise he seems fine,” one of them said, holding the small bundle in her hands.  
“Would you like to hold him?”  
John nodded, not having energy for anything else, and extended his arms out.  
Sherlock watched in awe.

This was the moment he had secretly feared. What if he felt nothing when looking at his child? What if his paternal instincts didn’t kick in at all?  
Now it was all forgotten, all he could focus on was the tiny creature resting on John’s chest.  
“He’s…beautiful,” he managed to say.  
“He gets it from his papa,” John said smiling.  
“I’d argue otherwise, besides he’s got your blonde hair,” Sherlock said, leaning in closer.  
The infant started to cry again.  
“I know you’d want to bond with him right now, but unfortunately we have to take him to do more checks,” the nurse said, gently taking the child from John’s arms.  
It took all John’s will power to let go of his child, and as he watched the doctor take him out of the room, a tear trickled down his cheek.  
“He has to be alright Sherlock, I-I can’t…” he sobbed, more tears falling down from his eyes.  
Sherlock wrapped his arms around his lover, feeling like crying aswell. “He will, I promise…”

Then he reached down to his pocket.  
“Here…” Sherlock said, holding the ring in his hand. “…if you still want it.”  
John smiled through the tears.  
“Of course I do, silly,” he said, taking it from Sherlock. “Sorry about that…”  
“It’s alright,” Sherlock said, rubbing the newly emerging bruise on his forehead. “I was being a tit.”


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit short.

John lay alone on the bed.  
It was past noon but he didn’t feel like getting up.  
He stared at the empty crib beside the bed and could feel tears forming in his eyes.  
The last two weeks had been rough for the couple. Hamish had to stay at the hospital because he was underweight and his lungs had not developed properly.  
No one wants to give birth and then go home without their child.  
John closed his eyes, desperately trying to get back to sleep when he heard a noise from the door that sounded suspiciously like a cry of an infant.  
His body tensed up.  
Was he imagining things now?   
There was no way…  
“Hush, now, let’s try not to wake up your daddy, he’s been very tired…” he heard Sherlock whisper.  
John’s shot right up on the bed, staring bewildered at his fiancé.  
Sherlock was standing at the end of the bed, holding a small bundle in his arms.

John felt like he was going to choke.  
“Sherlock…what…”  
The tall man smiled and sat on the bed next to John.  
“I got a call from the hospital. They said Hamish was doing so well that we could take him home. I wanted to tell you, but you were sleeping so I went ahead and…yeah…”  
Trembling, John took the baby from Sherlock’s arms.  
“He’s still a bit small, but otherwise healthy,” Sherlock smiled looking at his lover.  
John watched in awe at the sleeping child in his arms, and suddenly he was crying again.  
“Hey now,” Sherlock said, wiping the tears away. “I told you I don’t want to see anymore tears on that pretty face of yours.”  
“I’m not crying…” John sniffed. “I’m just… a bit overwhelmed right now.”  
Sherlock chuckled. “I knew he was going to make it, he’s a tough little guy, just like his dad,” he said, stroking his son’s head gently.


End file.
